


charcoal

by andnowforyaya



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art, Awkward Crush, Crush at First Sight, M/M, Past Relationship(s), past-bangdae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongup is a nude model in Daehyun’s drawing class.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [dddaehyun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dddaehyun/gifts).



> dddaehyun, hope you enjoy this <3
> 
> thank you embers for the beta and for the general positive cheering on <3

Daehyun held the pencil up between his forefinger and his thumb, gauging the proportions on the model the way he’d been taught during class. Over the course of the semester, they had graduated from bowls of fruit to live models, which meant that Daehyun was looking at naked bodies at least once a week.

The model stood on a low table, the class fanned out around him, their easels reminding Daehyun of the sails on ships as they looked for a place to dock. Daehyun had nearly finished his sketch and others in the class were in various phases of completion. He glanced to the right, over Junhong’s shoulder onto his friend’s easel, where he saw Junhong had chosen to focus on the new model’s jawline and the lower half of the model’s face. The man had an attractive chin, tapered but still strong, narrowing from wide cheekbones. Daehyun had seen, over the course of the past hour, the model’s lips twitch multiple times, like he’d wanted to smile.

It made Daehyun want to smile himself and he felt his lips moving of their own accord.

“Psst! Hyung,” Junhong said, turning back to smirk at him. “If you look at it too much, it might shrink back into its shell.”

Daehyun glared at him, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks as he lowered his pencil and as his line of sight darted toward the very part of the model he’d been trying to avoid looking at. “Why do you always make jokes like that?”

“I can’t help who I learn from,” he said, shooting Daehyun a reproachful look for effect. “And you’re being obvious.”

“Am _not_ ,” Daehyun said, but averted his gaze.

It wasn’t his fault that the new male figure model was fit and attractive and muscled and naked and well-endowed.

Man, was he well-endowed.

The corner of the model’s lip twitched upwards, but he continued staring straight ahead. He was still as a statue and sculpted like one as well, with his broad chest, strong shoulders and sharply defined muscles thrown into greater definition from the shadows created by the overhead light. His waist narrowed and then there was the flare of his thighs, the swell of his calves, and --

“Daehyun-sshi,” the teacher said. “The objective of this exercise is to keep your pencil moving. Remember, we’re still on 5-minute sketches.”

Daehyun’s cheeks heated as pink as his recently-dyed hair when he was called out of his daze, and this time the model definitely looked his way and smirked, sending a hot flash of attraction spiraling through Daehyun’s insides. Junhong snickered, unhelpful as always.

By the time class was over, Daehyun had five quick sketches and two larger studies to consider including in his portfolio. He was particularly proud of his focus on the model’s collarbones. As the class tidied, putting away the paper and easels and organizing the pencils and brushes, the model hopped from the table and walked casually over to a chair by the wall on light feet to collect his things. He stepped into a pair of boxers and pulled them up, and then, as though he were in the men’s locker room rather than in a class full of students, he sat down in the wooden chair and pulled his phone out, thumbs moving rapidly across the screen.

Daehyun couldn’t help but watch, and Junhong nudged him with his elbow. “Go say hi,” Junhong said. “He looks nice.”

“He looks like he’s busy, Junhong,” Daehyun said without thinking.

Junhong grinned, smug. “Ah, so you _do_ want to say hi to him.” After a moment, he added softly, “You’re allowed to, you know.”

Daehyun said nothing, clamping down on the swell of hurt that rushed up in his chest at Junhong’s words. He chose instead to duck his head and to finish cleaning his area, packing up for his next class.

.

That night as he lay in bed, his phone buzzing over and over with messages, Daehyun thought about the way the model’s hair fell across his forehead. How when he smiled, he had small dimples on his cheeks. He ignored his phone and tried to sleep instead. It didn’t work. He rolled over and looked at the screen of his phone, then put it down again. Lifted it and put it down again. Group messages. He didn’t want to read them.

He dreamed of skyscrapers in a crowded city, monochrome. He held his hand out to someone who didn’t take it. He woke up, the space next to him cold.

.

The model was back in class the following week. Daehyun had spent the days between trying to catch up on all his other school work, to keep himself busy, and had only once allowed his mind to wander in a dream about the other boy as he drifted off to sleep one evening.

He knew the only chance he’d ever have with someone like that model was in his dreams, anyway.

As the class settled in around the table and the model stepped up in all of his naked glory, Daehyun resolved to feel nothing. He could be a blank slate, just like the paper he was starting with. Blank and uncomplicated.

No, he wouldn’t swoon over the model’s cheekbones, nor over the fullness of his backside, nor think about what it’d be like to run his hands down the model’s smooth chest. Half of the class passed by quickly as Daehyun worked, letting his mind drift to the content that would be covered in his organic chemistry test coming up at the end of the week, to the shirt he’d seen in a window display he wanted to look for again, to what his lunch would be tomorrow.

Junhong seemed to sense his diligence and kept his focus on his own easel. While the younger student scratched at his paper with a pencil, Daehyun created broad, shadowy strokes using charcoal. He liked how easy it was for charcoal to glide over paper.

The professor made his rounds, commenting on each student’s progress and offering suggestions of techniques to try. When he came by Daehyun’s easel, he took one glance and hummed sadly, pausing behind his student’s shoulder and leaning over until his shadow covered half of the sketch. “Is there something wrong, Daehyun-sshi? Today, your sketches are looking...quite robotic.”

Daehyun paused. He’d been working on capturing the inside of the model’s elbow on his paper. When he took a moment to consider the whole drawing before him, he realized it was flat, like someone had taken a rolling pin to it. Toneless. The model on his paper did indeed look robotic compared to the one standing on the table, glowing golden under the soft overhead light.

Daehyun sighed, disappointed. “I’m sorry, Professor. I was trying to approach it objectively…” He made to tear the sheet from his easel, to start over, but the Professor stopped him with a hand over his.

“Art is not objective, Daehyun,” he said sagely. “Don’t hold yourself back. I see you’re using charcoal -- just go over what you had been doing, but without constraining yourself. I want you to see the difference.” He walked off, advice dropped, and hovered behind Junhong’s shoulder next.

Daehyun let his hand fall, examining his drawing. He’d tried to capture the model in the pose he was holding now: chin tilted up slightly, face in a three-quarter profile, body slightly twisted like he was about to perform a spin. His muscles were most pronounced in his thighs, holding the twist. He wanted to capture that.

He wanted to translate onto his paper the dynamic sense that the model was about to dance, spin right off the thick charcoal lines he was scratching over the first sketch. Charcoal dust blossomed from the page and rained down lightly, landing in the narrow tray of the easel and over his knees and shorts. He turned his charcoal sideways and used the broad side to shade in large portions of the model’s body where it fell into shadow -- one side of his abductor muscles, half of his right arm, the space below the curve of his calves. He worked quickly, his fingers turning black from the material he was using.

When the pose ended, Daehyun chose to examine his new sketch rather than flip to another page to draw the new pose.

The charcoal tended to blur and blend, but he could still see where the old ended and the new began. The lines danced between and among each other on the page, though eventually the thicker, more adventurous lines won out. His professor had been right, but there was still something missing.

The model’s eyes.

Smiling a secret smile to himself, Daehyun got to work on the details, mostly from memory. He chose a charcoal pencil he could sharpen to a point to draw the finer lines on the model’s face, like his eyelashes, his nostrils, the dip above his upper lip. He used his thumb to smudge a shadow where the model’s strong cheekbones made sharp highlights. His nose was the most difficult, and it took Daehyun a couple of tries, but after he added the small freckle in the middle of the bridge, it looked passable enough. He sat back, pleased with his work, and then was surprised when he noticed that the other students were packing up.

“Wow, hyung,” Junhong said, his book bag already slung over his shoulder, “looks great!” He took a step toward his friend before smiling at something over Daehyun’s shoulder and pausing. “I’ve, uh, got to run. See you at dinner tonight!”

Daehyun frowned, confused by Junhong’s sudden disappearance, though happy for the reminder that he was getting dinner later with friends. “Couldn’t even stay to help me clean,” he muttered under his breath, brushing his hair from his forehead when it fell into his eyes.

“I can help,” someone said behind him.

Daehyun turned to look, both hands frozen near the top of his easel, about to take his sketches down. The model had put his clothes on and was smiling at him. He wore jeans with yawning tears in the knees and a tank that had the arm holes nearly all the way down to his waist, the smooth line of his back peaking out teasingly behind the fabric.

He looked good. He looked better _with clothes on._ Daehyun swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

At his silence, the model stepped forward, even as the class cleared around them. The professor had already retreated into his study, to emerge only for his next class. “Do you do anything special with the charcoal?” the model asked.

“Um,” Daehyun said, his voice coming out squeaky. “No. It’s okay. I’ll take care of it, thank you.”

“Don’t you spray something to set these?” the model continued, waving Daehyun’s hands away from the easel so that he could take down the large sheets of paper instead, carefully bringing them over to a long work table by the wall and laying them side by side, three in all. “I overheard the professor talking to you. I don’t think these look robotic at all. You’re really good.”

“I’m,” Daehyun said, frozen. He blushed at the compliment. He just liked art. He wasn’t _good_ at art. His ex was good at art. Good enough that art took him halfway around the world. “Not that good.”

“No, seriously,” the model said, smiling as Daehyun’s heart raced. “One of them looks like I’m about to break dance! I’m Jongup, by the way.” He stuck his hand out to shake, and Daehyun took it on autopilot, stumbling with the grip and then flimsy with the finish. He tried to laugh off his clumsiness but his laughter tapered off when Jongup’s hand lingered in his.

“Daehyun,” Daehyun said softly.

Jongup was just a little bit shorter him, but it didn’t feel like it. He reminded Daehyun of the smooth surface of the ocean, teeming with life underneath.

Daehyun loved oceans.

“Well,” Jongup said. “It was nice meeting you, Daehyun. I guess I’ll see you at the next class?”

“I guess you will.” Daehyun smiled, too nervous, still holding Jongup’s hand. Jongup’s fingers curled around his, the skin both calloused and comforting. He could have sworn Jongup squeezed once before letting go.

Jongup said, “You’ve got--” He raised his hand and brought his thumb to Daehyun’s cheek and rubbed across his skin, and Daehyun felt tingling all the way down in his toes. His eyelids fluttered closed. Jongup’s fingers left him and he opened his eyes again.

“Charcoal,” Jongup finished, smiling, his eyes like a fox’s. He left with a skip to his step and a whistle on his lips.

.

Himchan smiled warmly at the waitress as she swiveled around to face him. “I’ll have the pasta special tonight, glass of the cabernet on happy hour...oh, and salad and calamari for the table,” he said with a wink, still smiling at the waitress as she took everyone’s menus and their orders back to the kitchen.

Daehyun saw Youngjae roll his eyes.

Unfortunately, Himchan saw him roll his eyes, too. “What?” Himchan snapped playfully. “I got us extra breadsticks, guaranteed.”

“Everyone gets breadsticks,” Junhong said, sitting next to Daehyun. “They are complimentary.”

Himchan put his fist on the table. “Don’t talk back to your elders.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that everyone gets free breadsticks,” Junhong repeated, more loudly and with a teasing, cheshire-like grin on his face. He enjoyed riling Himchan up; everyone did.

“Everyone gets free breadsticks,” Daehyun agreed solemnly. “I don’t think it’s your charms.”

“Still have a pretty face, though,” Himchan said, relenting easily and turning to Youngjae. He pouted forcefully at him. “Right, boo?”

“I told you not to call me that,” Youngjae said, but pecked him on the lips anyway.

Daehyun’s heart warmed at the sight of them together. After months of Himchan’s over-the-top flirting, Youngjae had finally given him the privilege of one date. It had gone terrifically, and two years later, in Himchan’s senior year and Youngjae’s junior, they were still going strong.

Junhong made a disgusted noise. “ _Blegh._ I think I just ate something weird. Like public displays of affection.”

Himchan sputtered like a car trying to start on an empty tank. “A tiny, cute kiss is not PDA.”

“It is affection displayed publicly,” Junhong argued, sticking out his tongue. Then he yelped and glared at Himchan, who had probably just kicked him under the table. “That was very immature!”

“Says the toddler of the group.”

The drinks came when Junhong’s mouth opened for a retort, their argument interrupted by the sound of their glasses clinking together in the first toast of the night.

Daehyun drank, the sweet cocktail he’d ordered leaving a sugary after-taste on his tongue. “I missed this,” he admitted, looking to each of them. For a few weeks he hadn’t felt...deserving. And then he hadn’t felt ready. Junhong had been the one to finally push him to rejoin the group. “I missed you guys.”

“Yeah,” Youngjae said. “It’s been awhile since we’ve all gotten together like this. Couple of weeks, right? Ever since…” He trailed off, looking at Daehyun before averting his gaze quickly and staring into his drink instead.

“You can say it,” Daehyun encouraged, drinking his cocktail a bit faster. “Ever since Yongguk broke up with me.”

“He didn’t break--” Himchan began, but Daehyun interrupted, matter-of-fact and clipped: “He graduated early and left for New York and said he needed to be free to be creative. He broke up with me.”

A thick blanket of silence fell over the group, and the other noises of the restaurant felt muted around them. Junhong said, “Well, you know how Yongguk is…”

Daehyun sighed and shrugged, his shoulders heavy. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

He finished his drink before their food came, and ordered another.

.

It was as though Daehyun blinked and they were in a club, lights flashing neon and music blasting a beat that resonated through his chest. The crush of bodies surged like waves, and Daehyun and his group were brought into the thick of it, surrounded. Daehyun’s cheeks were warm and his head was buzzing pleasantly, light as a feather. He felt like he was floating.

He’d only had a few drinks with dinner, he thought. Maybe more than a few. He couldn’t remember settling the bill, though it must have been settled. Relief released the tightness in his chest when he saw that Himchan and Youngjae and Junhong were with him, so he was okay.

“Okay?” Himchan shouted at him over the music, nodding to emphasize his question.

Daehyun nodded.

He let himself go, forgetting everything and letting the music move his body. He hadn’t dressed for the club, but he still looked good in his jeans and black muscle tank, and Junhong hovered close to fend off wandering hands. At some point, Himchan had disappeared, which Daehyun hadn’t realized until he reappeared again with someone new in tow.

Daehyun froze with his fist in the air, sobering like someone had dumped ice water over his head.

“This is my friend Jongup!” Himchan shouted over the music, having to lean close to Daehyun to make the introductions. His breath was hot in Daehyun’s ear, his hand searing Daehyun’s hip. “He’s the one who put us on the list!”

Junhong shouted, “Hey Jongup!” and continued to dance, oblivious to Daehyun’s inner turmoil, though Youngjae noticed.

“Do you guys know each other?”

“We just met,” Jongup said. Their group was a circle of stillness in a mass of waving limbs. Junhong had wandered away but not too far, interested in moving. “I model for their art class.”

“Oh,” Himchan said. “OH!” He held his hand up to his mouth as he laughed and Daehyun blushed. “Oh my god so Daehyun, you’ve seen -- you--”

Youngjae guided Himchan away, looking between Daehyun and Jongup with a glint in his eye. “Sorry my boyfriend’s got the mind of a twelve year old.”

“Hey!” Himchan objected. “What does that say about _you_?” They bickered back and forth in a growing crescendo, but even as they bickered, they moved closer together until they were lost, dancing against each other.

Then it was just Daehyun and Jongup, who had not changed from his clothes before, who had sweat glistening at his temple and very possibly body glitter across his shoulders and collarbones and cheeks.

“Do you wanna dance?” Jongup mouthed over the music, but Daehyun couldn’t make it out or comprehend. So Jongup moved closer, his mouth by Daehyun’s ear, his hands hovering over Daehyun’s hips. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked again, voice soft and clear, and Daehyun’s knees shook.

He nodded.

Jongup was not what Daehyun had been expecting. They danced, but it wasn’t the slow and sweaty grind that Daehyun was used to in clubs. Jongup danced around him, moved him in ways Daehyun didn’t think he could move, kept his distance and then suddenly closed it again, leaving Daehyun breathless and stunned. For a few beats, Daehyun simply watched Jongup move his hips in circles, smooth and sensual.

Then he was close again, pressed against Daehyun lightly, teasing. “You’re really good,” Daehyun said on a gasp.

“I’m part of a crew,” Jongup said, smiling that dimpled smile of his. Daehyun felt charmed. “You should see us all together.”

“I don’t know if I could handle that.”

The beat changed and Jongup stayed close, turning Daehyun and pressing up against his back, and the contact made Daehyun gasp again.

“Why?” Jongup said into Daehyun’s ear. “You like dancers or something?”

 _I like you,_ Daehyun almost said, but bit his own lips to stop himself. He couldn’t say a crazy thing like that.

Not yet.

.

Daehyun considered himself in the bathroom mirror; his hair was a mess and his eyeliner was smudged and his cheeks were still flushed and he couldn’t stop thinking about Jongup and his small smile, his gentle voice, the cute freckle on his nose.

He’d left early, blaming a headache from all the alcohol he’d drunk, when really he thought if he spent any more time with Jongup he’d either pass out or beg Jongup to take him home, neither of which he was ready to do. So he’d called a cab and gone home, reflecting deeply on the state of his life as the night flashed by the cab’s windows.

As he climbed into bed, Jongup’s name streaked across the screen of his phone.

>>get home okay?

He felt his lips lift into a smile. His heart took interest and sped up, too. It was hopeless, he thought. _He_ was hopeless.

<<safe and sound ^^ good night~

.

Jongup was standing on the table in class and Daehyun couldn’t look at him without remembering the way he’d held onto Daehyun’s hips the other night, his sweet voice in Daehyun’s ear, how everything had felt magnified in the half-dark of the club. He blushed and dropped his piece of charcoal when Jongup suddenly switched poses in order to look directly at him, hip jutting out slightly, satisfied smirk on his lips.

His nub of charcoal was ruined, smashed to bits, so Daehyun took a new one from the tray at the bottom of the easel, and when he looked up again Jongup was still staring at him, intent.

His focus should have been intimidating, but Daehyun welcomed it, challenged it, staring back as he sketched.

The twenty-second warm-up poses became minute-long poses, then two-minutes, then five-minutes. Jongup found a way to look back at Daehyun on every other one. Daehyun sketched quickly, black ash smeared across the paper, capturing Jongup before he could get away from him.

On the final five-minute pose, Jongup turned so that his backside was facing Daehyun, feet planted shoulder-width apart, hands behind his head and elbows out. As he settled into the pose, he looked back over his shoulder quickly, caught Daehyun’s eyes, and flexed each buttcheek.

A laugh broke free from Daehyun’s lips before he could stop himself, and their teacher glared at his breach of professionalism. Shoulders shaking, Daehyun pressed his lips together and ducked his head as Junhong rolled his eyes at him.

“So obvious,” he heard Junhong mutter under his breath, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel offended or defensive. Jongup, up on the table, seemed to swell, all pleased with himself.

When the class was over, he wasn’t surprised when Jongup approached him after dressing. “Daehyunnie-hyung,” he greeted. “Junhongie.”

“Have fun up there?” Junhong asked, holding his hand out. Jongup took it and they executed a complicated pattern of gestures that ended in what looked like a game of rock-paper-scissors to Daehyun. When had they had the time to come up with that?

“I like the audience,” Jongup replied, sharing a meaningful glance with Daehyun, who blushed. Again. His heart fluttered at the attention. He wasn’t used to it, the attention or the flirting.

“You’re getting better at it,” Daehyun offered in a voice softer than he’d intended. Junhong side-eyed him but didn’t point out the change in inflection.

“You think?” Jongup asked. “Dancing is nice but maybe I can take up modeling, too, hm…”

Jongup helped them both clean their work areas, lingering as they packed. He and Junhong bent their heads together and whispered over something as Daehyun sprayed his drawings with a charcoal setter, and when he came back, Junhong shouldered his backpack and said, “I need to run. See you, hyungs!”

Daehyun packed more slowly, and Jongup teetered on his toes, left with nothing to do.

It was endearing to see him awkward.

“How do you know Himchan-hyung?” Daehyun asked, to save them both from the silence.

“Oh,” Jongup said. “He and Youngjae-hyung came to one of our shows a couple months back. They started coming to more of our shows...I think they’re our fanboys?”

“Ah, I see,” Daehyun said, nodding. “I can see Himchan being a fanboy, but Youngjae?”

Jongup laughed. “Yeah. It always seems like Himchan-hyung just sorta dragged Youngjae out. But it’s okay. They’re really cute together.”

“They are.” Daehyun lifted his bag to his shoulders. “Well, I’ve--”

“Want to go out with me?” Jongup asked, interrupting, his face earnest and open and expectant. “On a date.”

Daehyun’s mind became blank, and something churned in his gut at the thought. Skyscrapers and monochrome and being left behind. The last person he’d dated left the country to get away from him. He took a step back and the bottom dropped out of his stomach when Jongup’s face fell. “I’m sorry,” Daehyun said. “It’s just -- I just ended a relationship...and if I go out with you right now I will definitely fail this class.”

Jongup’s face scrunched up in thought. “So…” he started, thinking out loud. “But that...wasn’t a no? Right?”

“Um,” Daehyun hedged, because Jongup was right. He didn’t say no outright, because he didn’t want to say no. He wanted to say yes. “Right.”

Jongup’s expression brightened again, like the sun peeking out from behind clouds. “So I’ll ask again when I’m done modeling for this class,” he said. “I’m here for four more weeks. One month. You won’t have just ended a relationship by then, and I won’t be modeling anymore so I can’t distract you in class.” He nodded, pleased by his own proposed solution.

Despite himself, Daehyun smiled. Jongup’s brightness was a balm to his recent bout of cloudiness, welcome and uplifting. “What about until then?” he asked.

“Until then,” Jongup said, “I guess I can distract you all I want.”

.

Jongup was indeed distracting, though he kept a respectable distance over the next three weeks. He seemed to take the unspoken message that Daehyun wanted a little space to sort out his feelings to heart, and there was no more buttcheek flexing while he was on the table.

There was maybe a little buttcheek flexing when they walked out of class together and up the stairs to the entrance of the building, and sometimes Jongup offered to carry Daehyun’s bag (Daehyun only took him up on the offer once); mostly though, there was just Jongup’s smile and the way he made Daehyun feel all sunny inside.

“I don’t know what to do,” he complained to Junhong one day, after explaining the whole situation to him, drinking iced vanilla lattes together before class. They were sitting across from each other in the student union cafe, condensation dripping down the sides of their plastic cups. “I think I like him a lot.”

“Really?” Junhong asked. “I didn’t suspect that one bit, hyung.” Punctuated by a noisy sip. Daehyun could tell the brat was being sarcastic.

“I just don’t know if I’m ready,” Daehyun said. The image of Yongguk flashed in his mind, the back of him, Yongguk leaving. “I don’t want to be hurt like that again,” he mumbled around the straw in his mouth.

“So you’ll never date again?” Junhong challenged.

“No, that’s not what I said.” Daehyun frowned, thinking of Jongup now. The tension eased in his shoulders just thinking about the last thing Jongup said: “I wonder if you see everything in blue if you wear blue contact lenses.” Jongup made him feel lighter.

“Listen, hyung,” Junhong started, leaning forward, his eyebrows furrowed. “You are a great person, and Jongup is a great person, and if you like each other -- what’s the problem? I get that you’re scared, but...Jongup isn’t Yongguk. It’s not going to be the same.”

Daehyun didn’t respond for a moment, letting Junhong’s words sink in. Anxiety still gnawed at his heart. “But what if it is?”

Junhong shrugged. He said, “How will you know if you don’t give it a try?”

.

Jongup’s last day as a model for their art class was here. Daehyun had only spent about an hour and a half in front of his full-length mirror this morning, trying on outfits and mussing up his hair and experimenting with a light lip gloss and some eyeliner. Not that he was trying to impress Jongup, or anything. He had settled on jeans and a thin, loose sweater with a neckline that hung low over his collarbones and the top of his chest.

During class, Jongup posed professionally, his body sculpted with tight muscle, and doubt flickered in Daehyun’s mind. Who was he to want Jongup? Jongup and his wonderful thighs and his shy, pretty smile and his weird, introspective commentary on life. Daehyun was just a boy who’d been dumped. He felt his shoulders sag a bit as he drew, a sigh escaping from his lips.

And besides, Jongup hadn’t flirted with him from the table in a while and he wasn’t paying any particular attention to Daehyun, now. Daehyun willed Jongup to turn around for his next pose, to do something that would indicate he was still interested in asking Daehyun out after the end of class. He felt like a middle school student in the park, picking petals off of flowers: he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not, he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not--

Jongup turned for his next pose, facing Daehyun, and lifted his arms above his head. He brought his hands down to meet each other on top of his hairline. A few of the students tittered and glanced Daehyun’s way, Junhong included, his eyes knowing and glittering and full of mirth.

Jongup winked at Daehyun, the pose complete.

His arms were a heart.

Daehyun flushed and felt his own heart skip a beat as he stared, smile stretching his lips slowly as he drank it all in. Jongup’s heart.

He thought of what Junhong had said to him, that he wouldn’t know if he didn’t try, and he wanted, in that moment, to try very, very hard. 

When class ended, Daehyun’s fingers couldn’t seem to move the way he wanted as he cleaned his work station. Charcoal kept slipping through them and he left smudges all over his sketches, the easel, and his jeans. Junhong came over to clap him on the shoulder once, making eye contact and nodding before leaving without a word, leaving Daehyun even more flustered.

He was just about done packing when Jongup finally came over after speaking with their teacher, his steps light and slow and too far away. Jongup hesitated about an arm’s length from him and cleared his throat.

Daehyun’s attention snapped to him, and Jongup smiled nervously. “So…” he said.

“So,” Daehyun encouraged, very nearly leaning forward on his toes. He shouldered his bag to keep himself moving so he wouldn’t launch himself at Jongup and scare him off.

“Over the past couple of weeks,” Jongup started, “I realized something…”

Daehyun’s hands flew to his cheeks as they heated. He resisted the urge to hide behind them. “What?”

“Well,” Jongup said. “You are really handsome, but…”

Daehyun’s heart dropped a bit. Jongup was going to say he didn’t want to date him after all. Over the past few weeks, he realized Daehyun would be too much trouble, perhaps. Too clingy and needy--

“But you always have charcoal all over your face.” Jongup laughed, stepping forward and closing the distance between them. He had a tissue in his hand, and raised it to Daehyun’s cheeks. “May I?”

Stunned, Daehyun dropped his hands and nodded, and Jongup rubbed the tissue over his skin, cleaning his face of charcoal, presumably. Jongup’s eyes were intent and he bit into his bottom lip while he focused. “There,” he said, a couple of moments later. “All gone.”

Daehyun’s smile was small and uncertain as Jongup stayed close. He felt electric, all of his senses hyper-attuned to the nearness of the other boy, the hair on his arms raised toward him. Wasn’t Jongup going to ask him?

Jongup said, “So, four weeks ago, we agreed that--”

“Yes,” Daehyun blurted, nearly shouted.

Jongup blinked.

“Sorry,” Daehyun mumbled sheepishly. “I got excited.”

Jongup shook his head and chuckled. “It’s okay. I’m excited, too,” he admitted. “Daehyun, after two months of modeling for this class, I made a little bit of money from it. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Daehyun thought of skyscrapers and monochrome, the image of someone’s back moving farther and farther away. Jongup was in front of him and Jongup was full technicolor, smile as bright as the sun, and he was holding his hand out for Daehyun to take.

Daehyun took it.

“Yes,” Daehyun said, calmer this time, outwardly at least. Inside, he felt like the contents of a soda can after being shaken. “Yes, I’d really love that.”

.


End file.
